


Pawns' Promotion

by Fig Newton (sg_fignewton)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Abduction, Bechdel Test Pass, Drama, Gen, NID, Women Being Awesome, reference to Daniel/Sha're
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fignewton/pseuds/Fig%20Newton
Summary: The NID think Sam and Sha're would make fine experimental subjects. Sam and Sha're have other ideas.





	Pawns' Promotion

**Author's Note:**

> Written in January 2011 for the Women of the Gate ficathon, for the prompt: _Sam & Sha're friendship. AU Sha're either does not become Amaunet or is saved. The NID tries to kidnap them both._ Sha're wanted a long, intricate backstory, but I'm afraid that she only gets this for now.
> 
> Set in late S2, after an AU _Secrets_ in which Sha're makes it safely back to Earth and is freed by Thor's Hammer on Cimmeria.

She was shuddering with cold. Woozy, almost sick. Strange ringing in her ears, rumbling vibration beneath her cheek. A faint moan from nearby, and Sam was relatively sure it hadn't been hers. 

She was lying on the floor of a moving vehicle -- a truck or a van -- and she wasn't alone.

Sam didn't dare open her eyes as she slowly pieced the clues together with her scattered memory. Their trip to Illinois to Daniel's old university, the restaurant for dinner, the return to the rental car and... nothing. No, she remembered now -- a strange hissing when she turned the key in the ignition. Exchanged looks of alarm, fumbling with the unfamiliar seat belt, fingers suddenly thick as they scrabbled at the door handle. Had she glimpsed figures converging on the car as she slumped forward over the steering wheel? She couldn't be sure. 

The moan came again, followed by a hissed curse in a language that had not been spoken on the planet for thousands of years. Sam froze momentarily in terror before she recognized that the harsh syllables had not been spoken in the phlanged echo of a Goa'uld, but in the soft alto of the woman who been born on Abydos and arrived on Earth only a few months before.

"Sha're?" she mumbled, trying to force heavy eyelids open. Belatedly, she realized that she shouldn’t have revealed her current state of consciousness to any hostile observers. She wished her brain didn't feel like it was operating through jello. 

A long pause, then, "Samantha? Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam blinked her eyes into focus and found she was lying on her side, staring at a blank wall of a room. No, not a room -- the side of a truck. That explained the vibrations and the noise. She rolled over with an effort and found herself face-to-face with Sha're.

She was certainly a far cry from the poised woman who had sat together with Sam and Daniel at Andalous for dinner. Sha're's stylish suit was gone, replaced by orange coveralls. Her tangled hair, pinned up so elegantly for the evening, now spilled down her shoulders. Her usual olive complexion was pale, almost sickly. Like Sam, Sha're must have been badly affected by whatever gas had been used to knock them out.

Sam stole a covert look down at her own body. She, too, seemed to have been stripped of her silk blouse and slacks and dressed in similar coveralls. She was less bothered by the question of _who_ had removed their clothing than by the realization that they'd certainly also been relieved of their cell phones, their beepers, and Sam's automatic. No way to defend themselves; no way to call for backup. She and Sha're were definitely in trouble.

"Sam," Sha're said again, and her face grew more pinched. "Where is Danyel?"

Sam gulped a little. He'd been in the car with them, but he wasn't with them now. Left behind as unimportant? Taken elsewhere? Shot? There was no way to tell.

"I don't know," she finally admitted.

Huddled together in a futile attempt to get warm, the two women sat in silent, mutual misery for several minutes. Finally, when the worst of nausea had passed, Sam asked, "Did you see who took us?"

"I did not." Sha're rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes. "You started the car and something... something happened to the air."

"Some kind of anesthetic gas," Sam nodded, then wished she hadn't. "It put us to sleep."

"I feel very ill."

"It's not getting any better?" Sam eyed her anxiously.

Sha're didn't answer. Instead, she crawled to the side of the truck and braced herself against the vibrating wall, pulling herself to her feet. She swayed alarmingly for a moment before she braced herself in the corner. 

"Yes," she said at last. "It is getting better. But I do not like it."

"No kidding." Sam copied Sha're and hauled herself upright. The truck chose that moment to round a corner, and the two women clutched at each other to avoid toppling over.

"Sam, what is happening?"

"I don't know. Not really."

"But you can guess?" Sha're prodded.

"Well. Probably." Sam licked dry lips. "I think this is a snatch by the NID."

Sha're frowned. "General Hammond told me that the NID's request was rejected."

Sam huffed. "Does this look like a request, Sha're?" She waved a weary hand at their chilly, moving prison. "They wanted to study some former hosts. I guess when they couldn't get access to us legally, they decided to try other methods."

"I assume," Sha're said drily, "that this is not normal procedure."

"Not for the SGC," Sam assured her. "But the NID..." She sighed. "It wouldn't be the first time they operated against the rules."

"That would explain why Danyel is not here." Sha're shivered.

Sam nodded mutely. She didn't dare voice her worries that Daniel might have been taken elsewhere, or even killed. If the NID was trying to keep this little operation under the radar, would they dare leave a witness behind?

The problem had started a few weeks after Sha're's arrival on Earth, when they'd finally completed the exhaustive debriefing on her observations as Amaunet's host. Sha're had been more than willing to help, even as her eyes grew steadily more haunted at the recollections of what she had endured. She'd been able to supply detailed descriptions of Apophis, his habits, the planets he visited most, the First Prime who had taken Teal'c's place, the size and scope of his fleet, even some of his longer-term plans... but all of her information was months out-of-date. Apophis had sent Amaunet to Abydos shortly before his invasion on Earth, and Sha're had no knowledge of anything that might have happened after that.

Once they'd pumped her dry as a source of information, the intelligence boys started making noises of interest about her changed physiology. Now that they had Sha're _and_ Sam on Earth, they had the perfect opportunity to study the effects of a symbiote on the human body. Janet had reluctantly made copies of all pertinent information: their new sensitivity to naquadah, Sam's flashes of memory, their increased resistance to drugs. But the NID hadn't been satisfied with this. They wanted to do tests -- lots and lots of them. And when Hammond had successfully headed them off and gotten a decisive ruling that the women weren't available as guinea pigs, it seemed that the NID had decided to take matters into their own hands.

"Did they take your watch?" Sha're asked suddenly into the gloomy silence.

Sam started and glanced at her wrist. "Yes."

"So we cannot know how much time has passed."

"It's probably been at least a few hours." Sam shifted her weight a little, trying to ease the aches in her legs. "They had our file, after all. They must've known we wouldn't react to a regular sleeping agent. They probably used a very high concentration of knockout gas."

Sha're bit her lip and glanced away. Sam realized that she must be wondering how the higher dose might have affected the other person who had been in the car with them -- the guy who _wasn't_ a former host and only had the normal human tolerance for drugs. 

To distract Sha're -- and herself -- Sam started exploring the confines of their moving prison. Unhappily, that didn't take very long. There was no panel or window connecting the back of the truck with the cab, and the back doors were solidly locked. The NID had efficiently stripped the truck of anything Sam might use as a tool or a weapon. Essentially, they were being transported in a bare metal box, with nothing to prevent them from reaching their unwanted destination.

"What of the lock?" Sha're asked, peering over Sam's shoulder. "Can you open it?"

"Not without lock picks," Sam sighed. "And that's assuming they didn't padlock the doors from the outside."

Sha're eyed Sam's shapeless jumpsuit and nodded her understanding of the absence of Sam's usual tools. "What of a substitute?"

"What do you mean?"

Sha're brushed the dangling locks of hair away from her face. A smile touched her lips for the first time as she pulled several hairpins out of the tangled mess. "Could you do something with this?"

Sam chuckled and took the slim bits of metal from Sha're's fingers. "I might be able to, at that. Let's give it a try." 

Fifteen minutes and six bent hairpins later, Sam's straining ears heard the satisfying _snick_ of the lock beneath the rumble of the truck's engine. Success! Beckoning to Sha're to come closer, Sam bent over the doors again and depressed the handle with agonizing slowness. It moved easily under her hand.

"Is it chained?" Sha're breathed in Sam's ear, although they had been speaking in normal tones until then.

"No way to tell without trying." Sam eased the handle back into the closed position and backed away, nearly toppling as the truck suddenly shifted speed. "Okay, let's figure out our options."

"Should we not attempt to escape?"

"Well, yes, but let's think this through first."

"Why think? Do you want to wait here until they open the doors and drag us outside?" Sha're folded her arms and frowned. "I do not choose to do that, Sam."

"Of course not, Sha're," Sam said as patiently as she could. She'd noticed, as the minutes passed, that Sha're seemed to be developing something akin to claustrophobia. She supposed it made sense; after over a year as a prisoner in her own body, Sha're could hardly be comfortable with the idea of being under someone else's control again. Sam knew she would have to keep an extra eye on her friend's reactions when the time came to attempt their escape.

"I meant that we have to think of all the possibilities and decide what to do in each situation," she continued. "Possibility number one: the doors weren't just locked, they're also padlocked. In that case, we can't get out."

"Let us find out, then," Sha're said impatiently.

"But if there's a car following the truck, the driver might notice the door moving," Sam pointed out. "Let's not give ourselves away until we've worked through all the options. Possibility number two..."

They discussed all the scenarios: the truck slowing down, the truck arriving at its destination, more than one escort car, the danger of firearms or tranquilizer darts. They had no way of knowing if it was night or day outside, and they needed to consider different alternatives to suit both cases. Finally, Sam outlined what Sha're should do if they were separated and how to contact the SGC.

The moment of truth arrived. The truck's driving patterns suggested that they were in a city at the moment, and other people were a source of safety. Sam and Sha're waited for the truck to slow down at a street corner, then wrenched the truck doors open.

There was no padlock. The two women tumbled out of the truck, rolling to minimize the impact. The truck kept going, but a dark car with tinted windows swerved wildly out of the lane and screeched to a halt at the curb, only a dozen meters away. Despite the desperate urge to run, Sam stayed down as Sha're scrambled to her feet. She saw the car doors open and two men emerge. One was shouting into a radio even as he fumbled with his holster; the other was already drawing his gun.

Sam was gratified to see Sha're do exactly as instructed: she turned and ran, pelting toward the nearest entrance. It was still night; there were storefronts nearby, but most of them were closed. Sha're veered to the left and ran toward the flashing neon lights of a cheap hotel halfway down the block.

"Stop!" yelled the man with the gun. "Stop, or I'll shoot!"

Sam and Sha're had discussed this at length. Would their captors shoot them, either to wound or to kill? Tranquilizer darts were a greater risk, but if the NID assumed they would remain unconscious for the duration of the trip -- and the lack of restraints did suggest that -- it was unlikely that they'd come aimed with tranquilizers rather than bullets. When Sha're had flatly stated that she'd rather risk dying than remain a prisoner, Sam had chosen not to argue.

Now, seeing Sha're ignore the man who had his weapon aimed directly between her shoulder blades, Sam wasn't sure they'd made the right choice. But Sha're was doing her part and giving Sam the distraction she needed. All she needed was another two seconds....

The man with the radio was paying more attention to his conversation than he was to the apparently unconscious woman lying on the ground. Up ahead, the truck was already slowing, preparing to turn around. No matter; by the time the truck got back, it would already be too late.

_Now._

The NID man got just close enough to Sam for a vicious leg sweep to knock him down. She rolled onto her knees, jabbed an elbow in his belly, and followed up with a solid uppercut to his nose. He went down with a satisfying _crunch_.

Sam yanked the gun out of the man's holster and pivoted to target the other NID man. He had nearly caught up with Sha're, who had just reached the hotel entrance. 

Without hesitating, Sam fired.

***

It took almost two hours for the SGC to scramble a team to their location -- somewhere in Missouri, Sam learned later -- but General Hammond sent local backup immediately. Sam didn't relax until all four NID men were handcuffed, including the one with the gunshot wound in his leg and the one with the broken nose. This last one seemed to be the leader of the NID team, although none of them spoke beyond demanding the right to a phone call. She and Sha're gratefully accepted the offers of coffee and blankets, although they politely refused a trip the hospital for observation.

At one point, the radio Sam had appropriated from their erstwhile captor crackled. "Captain Carter?"

Sam clicked the radio, gesturing for Sha're to come closer and listen. "Yes?"

"Major Ferretti, Captain Carter. General Hammond asked me to tell you that we've got news on Doctor Jackson. He's safe -- unconscious, but stable."

Sam met Sha're's gaze, seeing the almost tearful release of tension in those dark eyes. "Did the NID get him, too?"

"They tried," Ferretti's voice said through the faint hiss of static. "We've just spoken with Chicago police. Turns out your kidnapping was witnessed -- the report says you blew the car horn repeatedly before you passed out. Too many people were alerted for the NID to snatch all three of you cleanly, so they left Doctor Jackson behind."

"So you were looking for us, then?"

"No, Captain." Ferretti sounded rueful. "They took the Doc to the hospital and tried to run a check on him, but..."

"But when they ran his license number, their records told them he was dead," Sam finished wryly.

"Got it in one. At least he's been properly identified now. Warner is going to Chicago to take over his case, but the hospital says they expect him to wake up in another couple of hours."

"That's good news," Sam smiled, and she was glad to see Sha're smiling back. "What's your ETA?"

"We should be there in less than five minutes. You two all right there?"

"We're fine, Major. We'll hold the fort until you get here. Carter out."

As Sam lowered the radio, Sha're suddenly turned and marched across the cordoned section of the street to where the four NID men sat in sullen custody. Sam, feeling a little alarmed, quickly followed.

Sha're stopped in front of the police officer in charge. "I wish to speak to the prisoners in private," she stated. She was wearing that ridiculous orange jumpsuit, her face was smudged, and her hair was a matted bird's nest, but she still maintained her natural poise. "You will not wish to let them out of your sight, I know, but I ask you to move back so that you may no longer hear our words."

Sam, coming up behind her, nodded at the officer. "It's all right, Lieutenant. I'll keep watch."

"If you're sure, ma'am..." Looking dubious, the officer retreated, waving his patrol back to join him. Sam stood at Sha're's shoulder, holding the pistol in her right hand. She didn't know what Sha're wanted to say to these men, but she'd back her up anyway.

Sha're leaned forward and fixed the leader with narrowed eyes. "Take a message back to your masters," she hissed, her voice too low to carry to the watching police. "I was raised as a slave and _died_ to help free my people. Then I died again, though my body still walked and breathed. Now I have been reborn a third time to walk this Earth in freedom, and you think I will let you cowards steal my life?"

She spat at the ground at his feet. "Go back to your scrambling with evil tasks in the dark. Do not trouble us again."

She turned her back on them, chin still held high, and walked away. The sky was lightening into dawn. In the distance, Sam could hear the _whup whup whup_ of the choppers, coming to take them home.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit it: I adore Sha're beyond reason and her little speech at the end is a personal favorite. That woman truly deserves more fannish love.


End file.
